


Little Slice of Heaven

by NerdyMind



Series: 221Behave [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Birthday Cake, Brotherly Love, Fluff, Holmes Brothers' Childhood, Kid Mycroft, Kid Sherlock, M/M, time gap filler from 221Behave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 17:36:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdyMind/pseuds/NerdyMind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the missing scene/time gap from Chapter 2 of 221Behave.  Includes the Mycroft/Cake story Sherlock told John.</p><p>Can be read alone as all you need to know is that the boys are snuggled up in a small cabinet hiding and John hasn't slept in three days. <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Slice of Heaven

“Sherlock,” John whispered. “Tell me a story. Anything.”

“Hmmm…” Sherlock started. “How about I tell you why I tease Mycroft about cake so much?”

“Mmm sure.” John agreed happily, closing his eyes and leaning deeper into the warmth behind him. Sherlock’s voice was soft and low, hot breath on John’s ear as he settled in closer, whispering.

“It was Mycroft’s twelfth birthday so I had only just turned five. Mummy threw one of her usual parties. Inviting only the important families and forbidding any of our real friends an invitation. It wasn’t much matter as we rarely had real friends to invite, but Mycroft had one. Did I ever tell you that Lestrade and Mycroft were childhood friends?”

“You knew Greg as a kid?” John asked sleepily, stifling a yawn.

“Not as well as my brother did but, no matter, he was not on the list and it put Mycroft in a sour mood. While Mummy and Daddy entertained the adults with alcohol and political banter, we were delegated to showing the child guests around the house. Most of the more interesting rooms like the Library and the Tea Garden were full of adults so we were forced to keep to the upstairs bedrooms.

My brother and I plus seven young guests all spilled into Mycroft’s room. He was still socially awkward back then, mainly bragging about his many academic certificates and ribbons framed along the walls. A rude redheaded child shoved his way to the front of the group, I forget his name as my mind palace was still in its infancy back then, but I do remember his hair because it was the same shade as our dog, Redbeard. I wish you could have met that dog John, you would have loved him. Everyone did.”

“If you love him, I would have loved him too Sherl--” John yawned around the last syllable and snuggled in tighter under the Belstaff. Sherlock smiled, breathing in the scent of the man in his arms as he drew in a new breath to continue.

“This kid was rude and bossy. His parents were important, I bet Mycroft can remember their names, but no matter. We were instructed the night before to pay special care of this kid. Oh! Ronald. It was definitely. Ronald something. So this little Ronald _Importantpants_ decided that he was going to just take a toy out of Mycroft’s room. And neither of us wanted to upset Mummy, or much worse, Daddy. So we just stood there.”

“Shoulda… punched him… face..” John said lazily. Sherlock chuckled softly.

“I was five. Mycroft is weak. We just stood there and watched as he went through the toy chest. He pulled out an old action figure, some military hero that a misguided aunt had sent for Christmas the previous year. But Mycroft was clever. Don’t ever tell him I said that. But he looked that little prat in the eyes and begged, pleaded, ‘Oh no please, that’s my favorite!’ and he bought it. There were tiny gasps all around us as guests looked on in horror and watched the birthday boy lose his prized possession. I bought him one the following Christmas. Mummy never understood why he’d laughed so loud.”

“Sweet Sherlock. You’re sweet.” John was barely audible now.

“Shut up,” Sherlock grinned, nudging the cuddly doctor in his arms playfully. “The next stop was my room where I knew he would make the same demands. I was terrified, John. My brand new violin was sat out next to the music stand. Daddy’s old work laptop. My great aunt’s old chemistry set. So many things were still sat out. But you know me, I never put anything away. No point really, I’ll just have to pull it back out again to use it later.”

“Mmhm.” John mumbled in agreement. Sherlock was lost in thought and continued on.

“So, not to be outdone in wits by my simple older brother, I too decided to toy with the... Warner! Ronald Warner. That was his name.” John stirred and groaned in the detective’s arms. Sherlock lowered his voice, suddenly aware of how loud he’d been. “So, I set my gaze to a small wooden box by the window seat. He took the bait and I had to fight every muscle in my face not to grin. It was an old puzzle box of Mycroft’s I’d broken in an experiment the week before. Mycroft gave me a knowing wink and pat on the shoulder as we followed the children back down to the dining room for dessert.

Our little tour group was on edge after the display upstairs and each avoided eye contact with the mini ginger tyrant as they took their seats. But the adults were too pissed on wine to notice how quiet and reserved every child had become. Mummy wheeled the cake out on a cart, twelve candles aflame and the trite song rang up. Then suddenly, Ronald was behind Mycroft. He blew out the candles and sneered down the table willing anyone, someone to say something. ‘My wish!’ Mycroft had moaned then immediately flushed red as Daddy glared at him. Mycroft told me later he was too old to believe in something so childish and sentimental.”

“Hmm” John hummed. Sherlock carried on, buzzing with excitement to reach the story’s climax.

“So, Mycroft just sat there, steaming and stewing while Mummy sliced the cake and mumbled some half hearted excuse about another cake later. Mycroft wasn’t listening, his eyes were on the knife slicing into the cake. The first big corner slice was always reserved for the birthday boy. And we all watched as that Ronald _Cakesnatcher_ Warner snaked his chubby hands in. Snatched the plate and ran! Mycroft roared. He literally roared, John. Jumped from his chair, and chased after the boy. The whole table erupted in excitement as we all took chase.

When everyone finally caught up, they were out by the garden shed. Ronald was on the ground crying, blood pouring out of his nose. And Mycroft sitting on him, grinning around chocolate stained teeth. And just eating his fucking cake. Oh god John, he looked so damn pleased with himself! And that night, after Daddy gave him his lashes, Mummy asked why he’d done it. And you know what he said? **The cake was the last straw**.”

Sherlock broke into a fit of giggles, shaking his whole frame and tearing up his eyes. Wiping damp cheeks, the detective realized John was not laughing. No. But he _was_ snoring.

“You utter--” Sherlock wrapped his arms around the doctor’s waist and squeezed tightly, indulging in a full body embrace. He closed his eyes, breathed in the shampoo, cologne and subtle musk of the man in his arms. _Doctor John Hamish Watson, what have you done to me? Sleep well._

**Author's Note:**

> I will be writing a few of these to fill in those little time gaps and missing scenes. <3


End file.
